Somewhere in a deep dark subliminal womb a tiny warm egg shuddered as She swept it over with an intense loving inward gaze. It crackled and it wobbled and it dithered to life. A great big stirring mind felt a terrible heaving pull at its seams. Ripping. Tearing. Parting ways.
Two thoughts arose from the splitting of one.
Born. Cast out. Thrown into Life. Halfway across the globe in time.
Two halves of the same brain. Two strangers in flesh and blood. Two mothers two fathers two siblings or so. Something like Slapstick or lonesome no more.
The boy left brained, the girl right brained.
Or vice versa, as it seemed.
Perhaps they have equal parts of both.
Perhaps she has less of more
And he, more of less.
Perhaps together, they’d be perfect.
Don’t know. Can’t say. Don’t know.
Perhaps they’re meant for another lifetime
When the moment is etched and truly destined
Where the grass is green, the roses red
No cyanide skies
Just a complete head.
And then we’ll go back to complete, content, inert roundness. The egg. The big O – Zero.
Blessed by the Moon, back to our rightful place – fused as one in Her sublime womb.
But she says thank you. It’s heartfelt. For a moment that was beautiful but brief.
With grace she bows out though her head will explode
We’ll dance another day, I’ve got sand in my toes
The stars will shine for her once more in a manic magic Moon-licked sky.
Because. Simply. She is loved, she knows.